Tuesday, 23 June 2015

I knew Charlie Cox was very good in Boardwalk Empire (a totally underrated show) and Vincent D'Onofrio, well, he's been one of my favourite actors since I watched Stanley Kubrick's 'Full Metal Jacket' back in 2006.

Not so much of a surprise then that D'Onofrio delivers the greatest Marvel villain yet (sorry Tom Hiddleston and Loki), living out a Wilson Fisk that is a fiery, ferocious child monster that makes us empathize with and fear him all at once. Like all the great villains do.

A word of advice Marvel: stop killing off your villains, you'll have none left soon.

PS: Malekith, Ronan the Accuser and even Thanos are soulless villains. Learn from Wilson Fisk and get better. If you don't treat them like a true character but a mere obstacle to the hero(es), no one gives a shit about them.

This show is - surprise! - good.

Fringe

A criminally ignored sci-fi. Like the remake of Battlestar Galactica (a masterpiece, go watch it), this is a meticulous, well-thought show (Apart from some bits of seasons 4 and 5 which seemed to be all over the place).

It starts out like a CSI-meets-X-Files and turns out to be a very complex and rewarding experience, with so much detail you should probably not miss a single episode (unless, of course, you have a life, since some of the earlier seasons amount to about 22 episodes. Ouch!)

Plus, John Noble's performance over five seasons was criminally ignored, of course, because it's science-fiction we're talking about.

Remember Rutger Hauer in Blade Runner, Sigourney Weaver in Aliens or Michael Biehn in The Abyss? That is the company in which John Noble's interpretation of Walter Bishop should be.

If there is justice, this will be recognized as one of the greatest sci-fi shows ever made.

Supermensch

Do you know Shep Gordon? No? Ask yourself why, because the guy is a genius.

We tend to associate genius with art or science - meet the genius of management.The documentary, directed by Mike Myers, shows how Gordon has single-handedly, among other things:

Created the character of Alice Cooper, got him off drugs and alcohol and turned the guy into a global superstar in the process;

Turns the unknown Anne Murray into a star by having her take a picture with John Lennon and the Hollywood Vampires;

Faced with Alice Cooper's unknown status in England, has a truck with a picture of a naked Alice posing with a boa constrictor break down in the middle of London. The media coverage resulting in - ta-da - Wembley selling out;

Netflix does kick ass. Lenny Abrahamson's film Frank, far from being perfect, is still a joy to behold. A film about strange creative people in creative relationships and processes.

Contrary to anything and anyone, Frank the character doesn't have much of a process, he is the prototype of the mad genius. A myth, more than a man. After all, he can write songs about anything. Really.

Based on Frank Sidebottom, Chris Sievey's comic persona, and inspired by Captain Beefheart and Daniel Johnston, Domhnall Gleeson, Maggie Gyllenhall are great, but Michael Fassbender is just incredible. For a guy who spends 90% of the movie wearing a fake head, he does a hell of a job.

The soundtrack is something. In particular "I Love You All", a song that ends the movie and makes me think of what Joy Division's Ian Curtis could have done if he ever played with The Beta Band. Amazing stuff.

Monday, 1 June 2015

The light tortured my eyes in unacceptable ways. That fateful morning, I reflected on the meaning of life as I struggled with the smell of my own breath and armpits.

What had I done to deserve such severe livelihood? Had I been subjecting people to such painful experiences and sorrow that they were being led into madness and suicide? Was I a Mick Hucknall for the Youtube generation?

Maybe I should have had dinner instead of wine, beer and toilet water.
Maybe I should have avoided eating a whole Golden Syrup cake that had given me a irritable bowel syndrome and could have led me to spray paint the streets in poo?
Maybe.

I had been flustered in my existence by the breath of some drunk Polish guy and a vision of hell: an amateur porn video from 1997 that looked more like a horror directed by Eli Roth.

My being was sanguine, hell, I lived a joyous life. I sang and danced on the fields like Julie Andrews and I burped and farted and I once gave a hobo an expired credit card. Why would the universe want to mess with me?

Worst of all, I struggled to find the most beautiful woman in the universe, who I encountered leaving the bathroom of a pub whose name I can't remember on purpose. She had probably gone for a poo and a selfie, but she looked so naive and ethereal I wondered for a moment if I hadn't roofied myself.

I knew her name and attempted to stalk her on social media, to no avail. How can I find her? What am I? Who is this fat ginger bird in my bed? Some questions, I came to believe, are meant to remain unanswered.